Deep Deep Down
by Amynion
Summary: "Oh mercy, mercy, I've been caught, lying with my darkest thought..." Trapped and buried beneath the earth Aramis and Athos are forced to face the darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**Note**: Here's my latest Musketeers fic! I've got five chapters for you... Quotes are from The Fog by Rachel Sermanni. I had this idea rattling around in my head for a while, and then it all came together when I saw this song and an analysis by tumblr user thx0785 (dammit FF, why u no let me link?!). "Within us all lurks a darkness. It's that little voice that criticizes people in the streets. It's that part of you that longs for the violence..." The song seems to strike a chord within me, it's well worth a listen :)

**Deep Deep Down**

**Chapter One **

_Deep deep down under mountains I have heard them call my name  
Will I play their little game and tell them  
Deep deep down I've been waiting for the fighting to begin_

"We should strike now". Aramis' fingers twitched impatiently towards his gun. "Before they suspect anything".

"No… we should wait until dark at least". Athos replied.

"What difference does that make? It's going to be dark in there no matter what time of day we go in".

Athos gave a withering glance to Aramis. "If they have somebody acting as lookout we'll be spotted as soon as we break cover".

For days they had watched from afar and now Aramis was itching for some action. Patience never had been one of his best qualities… The musketeers were out in the countryside surrounding Paris, and they carefully watched a small crack in a hillside. It looked to be the entrance to a long abandoned gypsum mine. Time had led to a slow collapse of earth around it and foliage moved in to help conceal the way. It seemed nature was trying to reclaim what humanity had ripped away… Overgrown as it was the entrance would be easy to miss, but the men the musketeers tailed led them here easily enough.

It had started a few weeks ago when reports came in of strangers at an outlying village. Strangers in a village would usually be noteworthy only to the villagers themselves, but these strangers were acting strangely. They were a few men of an evasive nature, answering no questions, engaging in no niceties… they asked for no rooms but brought food and other supplies regularly, which told enquiring minds that they must be stopping nearby. However there was nothing of note in the area, nothing but a few abandoned mines…

Finally word came that a farm hand had fallen asleep in the hay and overheard a rather alarming conversation. Hushed voices had spoken of a celebration the king and queen would be attending, they spoke of weapons… of gunpowder. It sounded very much like a conspiracy, whether Huguenots, Spanish or some other men with a grudge. Of course it could just be the overactive imagination of a farm hand. So Captain Treville thought it wise to send a few men to investigate and find out the truth of the matter.

Athos, Aramis and Porthos had been chosen to go, and naturally they brought d'Artagnan along with them. Investigating was quite straight forward, the villagers were eager enough to talk. Perhaps it made them feel important to be involved... It wasn't every day a contingent of musketeers arrived on their doorstep. However every villager they spoke to seemed to embellish the tale, until it seemed they would be facing an army of six foot tall mercenaries with swarthy looks and scarred faces. Athos was most disappointed when the local store owner came running over quite out of breath to tell him one of the strangers had just left. The man he was pointed to looked quite ordinary after all of those tall tales. It was a simple matter to follow him. On the outskirts of the village the stranger met up with a couple of others, Athos couldn't get close enough to hear what they were saying, but they led him straight back to the crack in the hillside.

And that is how they came to be wearing Aramis' patience thin concealed in the undergrowth on the edge of a wood. A sudden rustle from behind had him reaching for his pistol, but Aramis soon relaxed on seeing it was Porthos with d'Artagnan close behind. They had been watching another entrance around the side of the hill, it was much smaller but still useable as was apparent by the comings and goings of the strangers.

"Anything?" Athos asked.

"No… it's quiet. I don't like it, I think we should move in". Porthos said as he settled down beside them.

"That's just what I was saying!" Aramis raised an emphatic hand, suddenly feeling vindicated.

Athos just glared at the entrance with a deeply knitted brow.

"d'Artaganan! Get your head down lad!" Porthos hissed.

The young man relinquished his position pressed against a tree and ducked down beside the others mouthing a quick 'sorry'.

Porthos turned his attention back to Athos. "They're up to something, I can feel it… the sooner we get in there and stop it the better".

"I'm with Porthos". Aramis agreed.

"You're always with Porthos". Athos noted dryly.

"Not always…" The young musketeer seemed suddenly defensive. "But in this, he speaks sense".

Athos took a deep breath and turned to d'Artagnan. "And what do you think?"

"Me?" After being treated as the pup of the group he seemed surprised at being consulted.

"Yes, I might as well hear your thoughts too. Not that they matter - that goes for you two as well. I am in command lest you've forgotten".

A sly smile was their only response.

"Well… I think they're right, we should move in. How much longer do we sit watching? We're going to learn nothing more from here".

"We're teaching him well!" Aramis laughed and clapped d'Artagnan on the shoulder.

Athos scowled. "That remains to be seen, it might just be your bad influence rubbing off… Very well, ready yourselves, let us go and see what these men are plotting. Aramis with me, Porthos and d'Artagnan take the side entrance".

As soon as Athos finished speaking Aramis eagerly shot to his feet and took out his pistol. Action at last!

**~oOo~**

Through the entrance a tunnel stood before the two musketeers. Further in lone lanterns cast a warm glow along the walls, but the spaces between them were given over to shadow. Athos and Aramis advanced cautiously, expecting to be accosted at any moment. But there was no sight nor sound of anyone… The air felt heavy to take in, the atmosphere was unpleasantly dank and the ground was uneven after untold years of neglect.

"Come on, where are you?" Athos' hushed voice filtered through the darkness.

But there was no answer.

Not until they came to a hollowed out room of sorts. It held a table filled with papers, and crates seemed to serve as chairs. More candles and lanterns lit the hollow nicely, they illuminated a young man frantically searching through the documents and shoving what he could in a bag.

"Stop what you're doing and turn around". Aramis levelled his pistol at the man's back.

Shaking he turned around and complied. The stranger looked as white as a sheet, with wide eyes and mouth agape. Aramis sighed, he couldn't have been much older than d'Artagnan. How had the boy come to be involved in such a mess?

"Where are the others?" Athos asked impatiently.

The lad made no answer, his eyes were fixed on the end of Aramis' gun. He was clearly petrified.

So Aramis put his pistol away and held his bare hands up. "Look, we just want to ask you a few questions. You will come to no harm, I give you my word".

"Where are they?" Athos tried again.

The boy seemed to gulp in a lungful of air before answering. His eyes flicked tellingly to the place where the tunnel continued. "Gone".

"Stay with him!" Athos shouted before dashing off in pursuit of the other men.

"What's your name lad?" Aramis asked.

The boy suddenly seemed taken by the frantic edge he had before. He shifted from one foot to the other, and glanced over Aramis' shoulder, looking for a way out. "We have to go… let me go, please".

"You're not going anywhere until you've answered a few questions. We'll start with your name, which is?"

"You don't understand, it's not safe… _please_". A hint of desperation crept into the lad's voice.

The sound of Athos' harried footsteps echoing through the tunnel interrupted them. He had hardly been gone two minutes, had he caught them already?

"ARAMIS! RUN!" Athos bellowed as he flew through the hollow.

With his attention taken by Athos the young musketeer let his guard down momentarily. In that split second the boy rushed towards him and Aramis acted purely on instinct. In the blink of an eye there was a blade in the boy's chest with Aramis' hand on the hilt. The lad's eyes slid from the way out to settle on Aramis… he hadn't been attacking… he had been running. It all happened so fast. Aramis felt his hands grow slick with blood as guilt engulfed him. He hadn't meant to… he couldn't even recall the moment he took the dagger from it's sheath... But there was no time.

"ARAMIS!"

He turned to run.

And with a tremendous roar the world exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Thank you for the follows, favourites and reviews all you lovely people :) I'm going to be busy for the rest of the week and I'm not sure I'll get a chance to update - so here's an early chapter. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Two**

_Must I hold my hands up?  
My bloody hands up_

Athos felt a gentle hand through his hair. Somebody called his name… He moaned, it was too early to get up, and why should he? As the Comte de la Fere he should be able to sleep as long as he liked... Athos would give anything to sleep a little while longer, he felt peaceful. It was the kind of peace only dreams could provide. But that voice was insistent, and the scent of forget me nots seemed to wind through the air. Well, it wouldn't be too bad waking up to _her_…

"Athos, wake up. Don't be dead… Come on _Athos_, if you don't open your eyes I'll kill you myself".

Athos slowly came to awareness and was confused to find it still dark. There was something strange… the ominous sound of shifting earth settling. And suddenly it all came back to him. The conspiracy… the explosion! Athos sat up quickly and soon regretted it, a sharp pain shot through his head and the world spun.

"Aramis…" Athos coughed and brushed a layer of dirt and rubble from his body. He could feel a warm trickle of blood running through his hair and down the back of his neck.

"Thank God, I thought you were dead!".

Beneath the relief Athos could detect a note of pain in Aramis' voice. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to get his sparking, spinning vision to settle. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm…" Aramis hesitated.

"Don't even think of lying to me".

"It's my leg… it's trapped, probably broken". The younger musketeer sounded rough, like he'd inhaled more dirt than air, which he probably had.

"I'll get you out, give me a minute".

With a little more blinking Athos' sight righted itself. Not that there was much to be seen, the explosion caused the tunnel to cave in. They seemed to have been saved by the hollow... it must have been reinforced well. With the tunnel blocked there was no way out, only a hole up above to the outside world. The surface had been breached, and for that Athos was thankful. Although it was too high to climb up to - and Athos would not want to risk another collapse in the attempt - it allowed a shaft of light to illuminate their little prison and hopefully any rescuers would hear their shouts.

The musketeer's eyes quickly grew used to the half light and he spotted two still forms lying on the ground just across from him. The boy and Aramis. One dead, one thankfully alive… Athos shuffled his way over to them.

"How is…" Aramis broke off to cough fiercely. He seemed to have taken in a lungful of dust. "... your head?"

Athos took to examining the situation. Aramis lay on his side, one leg curled up and free, the other pinned beneath a rock. Earth was piled high upon it to boot… Mercifully the slab also lay on another boulder. It shared the weight, Aramis' leg would have been crushed otherwise.

"It is painful… but at least it isn't stuck under a rock". Athos sighed. "I'm not sure I can move this by myself. Even if I could manage it I would risk shifting the earth… it might come down on top of you".

"I am well and truly trapped then… Climb out and save yourself Athos". Aramis lay his head on his arms in defeat, and that was when Athos noted his hands were tightly fisted. He must have been in quite some pain.

"I dare not risk the climb, besides I'm not leaving here without you". Athos placed his hand on Aramis' knee, the rock had him by the lower leg… If he could just twist the limb around a little he might be able to work it out. But it would_ hurt_. "Let me try something".

Aramis whimpered involuntarily as he began to work, and then he pulled and Aramis cried out.

"Stop Athos! Leave it! I can't… I can't…"

Athos stopped. The only sound was Aramis' pained panting.

"I am _not_ leaving without you". Athos said again.

"Then maybe we'll both die here… like him". Aramis' eyes flicked towards the boy. A moment of silence passed between them before his tentative voice made a request. "Athos… can you… move him?"

Aramis seemed reluctant to ask. The poor deceased lad's empty eyes lay only inches away. Athos brushed them closed before he dragged the body across the hollow. It was no great distance, but the more space he could put between death and Aramis the better. Athos returned to find the young musketeer trying to brush his hands off as if they were dirty. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

"Come here…" Athos took a hand and found it dark with blood. So that's what he was trying to rid himself of.

"I didn't mean to… it happened so fast. He came at me, but he was just trying to get by, and I…"

Athos took out a handkerchief and cleaned up Aramis' hands as best he could.

"I couldn't bear to have him watch me, I know I deserve it, but it's like it was back then…"

"Hush Aramis, he's dead, he's not watching anybody".

"They watch. Don't think that they can't see… They can look into you and see…"

"Aramis, look at _me_". Athos felt Aramis was wandering into dangerous territory that he must be kept from at all costs… "Forget him, we're getting out of here, we're going to see Porthos…"

"Porthos and d'Artagnan, dear God, what of them? They could be under all this!"

"And they could be fine. They probably met the men that flew from this place and escorted the scoundrels outside. Or if they got out Porthos and d'Artagnan would have taken up the pursuit… we have only to wait and they will return".

"I hope you're right…"

"I am". He sounded a lot more confident than he felt.

Athos looked up at the hole above, the sky was dull and grey but it had never seemed so precious. Freedom was tantalisingly close… He absentmindedly brushed away some debris from Aramis noting the young musketeer was trembling slightly. There was only one thing to be done - distract and keep his spirits up. It wasn't exactly Athos' forte. Porthos was the one who could talk endlessly about everything and nothing, and Aramis kept up with him easily. Some part of him envied that easy flow of conversation, but Athos had always been content to communicate with a glance or the occasional smile. Words were not always needed to say something.

"If I knew we were going to be stuck here I would have brought along some cards. And some wine for that matter".

"I wish you had brought wine too…" Aramis' voice was tight with pain.

"I could always knock you out if you'd like. It seems to work with Porthos". Athos noted wryly.

"But then who would be here to entertain you?" Aramis huffed an awkward laugh.

"I can entertain myself well enough thank you".

"I'm sure you can…" Aramis coughed and then looked around as much as he was able. "It's like being in confession… dark… closed in… musty".

"I'm not your priest". Athos gave the young musketeer a pointed look, though it was probably missed in the half light.

"Bless me Athos for I have sinned. It has been… Hmm, I can't actually remember the last time I confessed".

"I said - I'm not your priest". Aramis' tone was light thus far, but Athos got the feeling they were nearing dangerous territory once again… After Savoy Aramis had wandered the churches of Paris as a lost man wanders the woods looking for a path. He confessed, again and again, but it did not seem to give him any comfort. They worried for the young musketeer... He became angry. Aramis started fights as well as meaningless affairs, and he would confess and confess. They began to wonder if he was committing sins just so he could be absolved from them. But eventually the young musketeer stopped going, perhaps he had just been looking in the wrong place for redemption...

"It is probably for the best, we're likely to die before I manage to get through all of my sins. Will you absolve me at least?"

"Of course".

"Then say it". Aramis' voice suddenly turned serious. "Say the words".

Athos sighed, if it would bring Aramis some small comfort then he would go along with it. "I absolve you from your sins".

"Thank you".

An irrepressible silence fell between the two men and Athos found himself watching the gap up above with such longing. Aramis might imagine a confessional box, but Athos saw the walls of a grave about him. He shook his head fiercely and winced as it aggravated his injury. He couldn't fall into the same despair he was trying to keep Aramis from… Porthos was alive, and he would come.

Or Porthos was dead, and they would wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: I realised I forget to mention when I set this story - It's early season one, before Athos knows his wife is still alive. And I said I was going to be busy - I knew work would have my nose to the grindstone. I just didn't anticipate having my entire face smushed into it. So I can only apologise for the delay in getting this chapter to you. Now I'm going off to sleep for a thousand years :)

**Chapter Three**

_Oh light please try to hold your ground  
Lift me up before I drown_

Pain lanced down his leg and near enough took his breath away. But in some way Aramis was glad. It gave him something to focus on… There were shadows down here that played at the edge of his mind and if he let the darkness take hold… well, it didn't bear thinking about. And so Aramis did his best not to think about Savoy, or the boy lying dead in the corner, or his friends who could be lying dead beneath the earth. The pain was a distraction, but he would much prefer something else…

Athos sat by his side… oh Athos, please talk, please say something… Aramis was near enough begging him to break the silence. He would much rather be distracted by conversation than hurt, but Athos was always given over to inward reflection. Porthos on the other hand seemed to consider his words only after he'd said them, if he considered them at all. Porthos… dear Porthos. In thinking of his friend Aramis closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer skyward.

The silence stretched between them. Athos, Aramis, and the dead boy. No… do not think of him. He is gone… Then Aramis felt Athos place a firm hand on his shoulder. "Porthos will come. He _will_ find us".

_If he is not dead already. _The dark voice at the back of Aramis' mind supplied a response, but he wouldn't let it reach his lips.

Despite Aramis' silent begging Athos couldn't change who he was, he couldn't resort to meaningless conversation in such dire circumstances. Athos was Athos. On the other hand Aramis was a mess of contradictions. As he considered himself he began to wonder who exactly he was these days… A man of God, yet a man of the sword… He killed, and some part of him did enjoy it. Despite how much Aramis wanted peace amongst men there was a perverse kind of glory in witnessing your enemy's last breath... He prayed, and yet with those same lips he would leave a trail of kisses down the neck of another man's wife. Were there two different people within him? Or was there a darkness deep deep down that Aramis gave in to?

There was something in him that wanted to sin. It longed for the violence and blinded him with lust. Was this darkness within everybody? Were others simply stronger against it?

"Aramis? Are you alright?" Athos hand came to his shoulder and squeezed.

"How can you be so strong?" Aramis was still half immersed in his thoughts. Besides, this was _Athos_. Did he really need to ask?

"What do you mean?"

"I was just thinking on the darkness in our souls… Where does it come from? What is it for? How do you resist it? Of course _you _can, you're strong. But not everybody is... why do I give in? It cannot be strength alone… There is a poor boy from one of the villages, he comes to sing in the market place. Jacques - have you seen him?" Athos gave a nod and Aramis continued. "Porthos always gives him a few coins when we pass by… I keep thinking he would be richer if he just became a thief, but still he holds his hands out. Why?"

"Aramis…" Athos sighed his name as if he wanted to derail this train of thought.

"A boy has a more steadfast will than I, how so? What stops him from giving in to the darkness?"

"We all give in eventually. I am not as strong as you think I am…"

"You speak of the drink? There is no real darkness in that, you drink to forget… I know what it is to need to forget. But that matter of the heart is your business and I will not pry". Athos' had kept hidden the reason he turned to the bottle. All they knew was that a woman was involved… Aramis had played through each scenario that jumped to mind. Had he been rejected? Had he lost somebody important? Whatever the reason Athos did not want to talk about it, and Aramis would not force him to.

Athos, for his part, cast no light on the assumption Aramis made. "Rest now, do not trouble yourself with such thoughts".

"I do not trouble myself. They trouble me". The still form of the dead boy caught Aramis' eye in the half light. "I promised him. I told him he would come to no harm and I…"

"It is not your fault". Athos spoke firmly.

"Thou shalt not kill, Athos!" Aramis clenched his fists as a wave of pain hit. He had perhaps not meant to shout so loudly. "And I killed him… I kill so many… I chose a profession of killing. What does that say about me?"

"Sometimes killing is necessary. Sometimes you have to…" Athos cut himself off as if he couldn't bear to go where that sentence lead.

"I could have been a tailor, a smith or an abbé… I was meant to be an abbé, I should have been an abbé. And instead I am _this_". But what was 'this'? A mess of contradictions. He was everything and nothing all at once. "What am I Athos?"

"A good man". His voice was quiet in its answer.

And silence fell between them.

Aramis took in a harsh breath, steeling himself against the immeasurable pain of his leg. The ground was cold and hard beneath him, he wanted to shift, to ease some feeling back into his body… but any movement that jostled his leg was agony. He only turned his head to look up at the sky through the hole above. The light it let in had waned as afternoon became evening and the air cooled with it. Aramis offered another prayer… He could not hope for God to hold back the hours and stop night falling, but he prayed for Porthos and d'Artagnan to find them before it did… Aramis feared being trapped down here in the darkness more than anything.

~oOo~

_I don't want this darkness  
But the sun just falls from the sky_

Athos was glad for the silence that followed his friend's outburst. He hoped it put those thoughts to rest, like the closing of a book after a final chapter. But it had ignited thoughts of his own, and not at all pleasant ones.

Aramis was wrong about him. He was not strong, not at all… and wine let him forget his own brush with the darkness in his soul. Although it was less of a brush and more of an embrace. He had very nearly spoken of it… Sometimes killing was necessary… It had been necessary. That is what he had told himself at the time. Justice must be done and seen to be done. But he hadn't seen it. He had turned away like a coward. The darkness ran through him screaming every night he spent sobbing with a bottle… was it justice really? _Fiat justitia ruat caelum_ - Let justice be done though the heavens fall - A life demanded a life, no matter the consequences, no matter who that life belonged to. But he had given two lives in payment of one - Anne's as well as his own. Her suffering was over in an instant, but his would last eternity.

Why did Aramis have to scratch at old wounds? Athos gave a sigh… there was no wine to numb him this time, he was stuck with these thoughts. Trapped like a rat… or two musketeers in a hole. Athos preferred to keep his thoughts to himself while Aramis spoke freely of his troubles. Perhaps the pain had loosened his tongue a little more than usual, but Aramis was more a man of words than Athos. For his part Athos used words sparingly but well, like a musket shot that hits its target. Aramis seemed to do everything enthusiastically, whether it was speaking, fighting or loving. In fact Aramis reminded him somewhat of an eager horse. A rider could try to fight their mount and hold them back, but it would only lead to both being in bad temper... and possibly one on the ground. Aramis needed to run, and so they let him run. (With the occasional glare of disapproval on Athos' part).

Considering how lively Aramis usually was it was worrying to see him like this now… He was quiet, and it brought Athos from his thoughts to their present situation. The light was failing and Aramis was suffering. His own head was pounding, but at least the blood had long ago ceased to flow. It was getting cold too. If they had to pass the night here it would not bode well…

Aramis suddenly shifted about, giving a pained gasp as he jarred his leg.

"Stay still you fool". Athos chastised half heartedly. Then he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Try to rest".

"Don't want to rest… want to get out". Aramis huffed.

"I know, and we will". Athos noted the young musketeer was shivering so he wordlessly shucked his jacket off and placed it over his friend.

It was getting harder to see in the failing light, but Athos tried to examine the walls of their prison for footholds. They were not going to be rescued before nightfall, so he had started to weigh up the risk of climbing out with the risk of spending the night here. He got to his feet and found a likely looking stone embedded in the wall of dirt. The musketeer placed his hand on it and tested his weight but it fell to the ground with a shower of soil. Athos cursed and kept looking.

Eventually Athos managed to climb a few feet from the ground, he would have to be more careful higher up so he came back down to speak with Aramis. "I'm going to try getting out. If I can… Aramis? Aramis, wake up".

He shook the young musketeer gently. After telling Aramis to get some rest he was now wondering if it was a bad idea… he might not wake up again. The young musketeer's eyes flickered open blearily. "Keep your eyes open Aramis. Stay awake".

He just gave a slight nod.

And now Athos had something else to weigh up - the risk of leaving Aramis alone to fall unconscious and perish... He hesitated... and then Athos decided to stop a little longer. There was enough light for a few hours at least… and they might be found. Still, the longer he waited the worse Aramis was likely to get.

As the minutes went by a role reversal took place between them, Athos spoke more as Aramis spoke less. It did not come naturally to him but Athos had to keep Aramis awake at all costs.

"It won't be much longer. Porthos will be here soon, you'll see, d'Artagnan too. They're just fine and they're going to come for us".

"Dead…" Aramis' tired voice was barely audible.

"They are not dead. Do you really think a bit of dirt is a match for Porthos? They were probably well out of the mine before the explosion anyway. I'll warrant they've chased those men into the woods, I hope they haven't got lost… you know Porthos navigates like a man blind and drunk".

"They're dead… we're dead…" Aramis heaved in a pained gasp. "The voice of your brother's blood is crying to me from the ground... And now you are cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother's blood from your hand..."

"Aramis, what are you saying?" It sounded like scripture. And Athos felt like he was starting to lose his friend. Those words about _brother's blood_ sent a chill down his spine...

It was getting darker.

Athos looked at the gap high above. The walls of his grave enclosed about him as the night took a tighter grip on the world. The musketeer suddenly imagined the gap being filled with falling earth by a weeping ring of mourners. Words fell with the hallowed ground... they came from the mouth of a priest, though they might actually have passed the lips of his friend. Suddenly Athos took in a harsh breath and shot to his feet. He wouldn't make this hole their grave. He would get out.

"Stay strong Aramis, I'm going to bring help. I'll be back for you…"

Athos looked over his shoulder at the still man on the ground. The musketeer was very aware these might be the last words he spoke to his friend, and he wanted to say something more, but as ever words failed him. He would do better by his actions, and so he took a hold of the wall and started the climb.

He had only got a few feet from the ground when he thought a stray voice called his name… Athos began to wonder if he was hearing things or if it was the head injury having an effect at last. But that voice sounded again, and this time it shouted for Aramis.

_Porthos_.

"Porthos! We're here!" Athos dropped back to the ground and raised his hands to his mouth, bellowing for all he was worth. "PORTHOS!"

"Athos?!" A faint reply drifted down.

After a bit more yelling Porthos finally appeared at the gap. He blocked what little light remained, but Athos had never been so thankful to see him.

"Athos! Are you down there?!"

"Yes! Yes! Aramis too! Thank God! You found us… Where is d'Artagnan? Is he alright?"

"He's fine. A couple of men came running down the tunnel and we went after them. They led us a merry chase around the woods but d'Artagnan shot one down - Aramis would have been proud! The scoundrel is still alive, so we tied him up and d'Artagnan stopped behind to guard him".

"Good, we might be able to get a few answers out of him… They did not set off a great amount of powder down here, just enough to cause a collapse, it must be somewhere else". Ever the soldier Athos was still considering their mission despite his predicament.

"We found cart tracks, they probably moved it".

"Then the King and Queen are still in danger. Have d'Artagnan take his prisoner back to the garrison and alert Treville. We need you to get us out of here".

"Aramis, my friend, you are being too quiet, are you hurt?" Porthos called down with a worried tone.

"His leg is trapped, I'm going to need help to get him free". Athos replied as Aramis remained silent.

At that Porthos placed his own leg over the edge. "I'm coming down!"

"No you fool! Stop where you are! We don't want all of us stuck down here! Go back to the village, get help, bring ropes and a cart…"

"Is he alright?"

Athos shot a look at Aramis. He was resting his forehead on his hands, a dishevelled mess of dark hair was all that could be made out. "Porthos… just hurry".

Porthos wasted no more time with words. He disappeared from the gap and left Athos staring up at a darkening sky.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Mercy mercy I've been caught lying with my darkest thought  
They grabbed my wings and pinned me to the wall_

As he fell silent Aramis fell into darkness. He didn't know Porthos had come, he didn't know help was on its way. If he could have thought with his rational medical mind he might have realised it was the pain and the cold. Shock was taking hold. He felt numb and detached, and cold… so cold.

He had been colder, lying on powdered ground, dead brothers pressed around him... across him... smothering him. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. Ravens called and feasted. Their beady eyes shone bright and black in contrast to the glassy dead gaze on the face of every friend. They were dead… they were dead… why wasn't he dead? The ravens looked at him as if they wondered as well. Was he dead? He had to get up, he had to get out. He would be buried with them all, maybe he should be… He was already under the ground. There was no light any more. He couldn't see… he couldn't see their faces… but he didn't need to. He knew they were watching.

Aramis suddenly felt hands on him and he let out a broken cry. They were taking him! Trying to drag him down! Deep deep down… further than any grave… all the way down to hell. It wasn't cold any more. He was burning! Skin peeling away, flesh scorching, suffering as sinners were fated to suffer. Hands held him fast, he was pinned, tortured… pain, hurt, agony, it was his. Every word of it washed over his broken skin. He needed to confess.

"Forgive me! Father! Please! I have sinned! I have… I have..."

"Aramis! For God's sake stay still!"

That voice dragged him back. Aramis was in confession once more. He stilled, and gradually the pressure lifted from his limbs. The young musketeer realised he was panting, he cracked open watery eyes and found nothing. It was pitch black… but confession wouldn't be confession without darkness. He began to pray. It hadn't helped then and it didn't help now. But he would rather occupy his lips with prayers than screams.

"Are you with me? Aramis?"

"... whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed… strike him down and bury him… the Lord will repay him for the blood he shed…" Verses spilled endlessly from his lips.

"Aramis! Stop it! Wake up!"

He felt himself be shaken but he could not stop. He needed to be cleansed of darkness. "For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality…"

"Please… Aramis… don't..."

"... they that take the sword shall perish with the sword..."

He felt a sting to his cheek and suddenly the words ceased to flow.

"Aramis?"

"A… Athos?"

A sigh of relief rushed through the pitch black. "Are you back? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm… with you".

Athos huffed a laugh and seemed to take it as a good enough answer.

But Aramis was with another too, there was nothing to be seen, just voices to be heard… but there were eyes watching from the corner. Dead eyes. Ones that he had hollowed.

**~oOo~**

_The din creeps neath my skin  
And I can't hear no goodness speak_

As Aramis seemed to come back to reality Athos felt relief wash through him. Little by little he had watched his friend unravel. He wasn't sure what was worse… Aramis being as silent as the grave or Aramis shouting, screaming and reciting biblical verse.

Night had fallen, and Athos sincerely hoped Porthos was on his way back by now. It was frightening to watch Aramis deteriorate minute by minute. The darkness meant Athos couldn't see, but he had restrained Aramis and found the young musketeer was shivering despite the sweat that drenched his skin. He could hear Aramis breathe too… a harried laboured panting ran through the hollow. It didn't sound good.

Aramis started to shift again, he moaned with it, the action causing him pain.

"Keep still Aramis".

"Hurts… Athos… it hurts".

Athos could dimly perceive Aramis slam a fist into the dirt. "I know… Just hold on. Porthos will be back soon".

He shuffled closer and took Aramis' hand. The young musketeer gripped it painfully hard.

"Maybe this is my punishment… my atonement… I cannot be forgiven, I must suffer".

"The God you love would not want you to suffer surely?"

"I sometimes wonder". A spasm of pain seemed to run through Aramis, his hand clenched and he hissed. "Turn your eyes away".

"What do you mean? I can't see a thing down here".

"Not you… _him_… he's watching me".

Athos' heart sank as he realised Aramis spoke of the dead boy.

"He's not watching anything. He's long gone from this world. There's just you and me Aramis".

"You don't know that! You don't know what it's like! If you had been with them, lying with so many dead watching… you would know then. Even the ravens looked at me and questioned. Those empty eyes watched with anger, robbed of life so suddenly… I didn't know if I was one of them. Was I staring at them as they stared at me? Were they asking themselves the same questions? Maybe we're the dead ones Athos".

"Stay with me Aramis, we're alive and Porthos is coming. I will hit you again if I must". Athos felt his friend beginning to drift again.

Suddenly a dreadful sob wracked Aramis' frame. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to…"

"Stop apologising Aramis". Athos' voice turned hard. The musketeer let the soldier in him take over. "This was the boy's own making. He fell in with criminals. He was stupid enough to hang around when there was lit powder about to go up, and _he_ ran into _you_".

"But he blames me Athos… I can see it in his eyes".

"You're imagining it, you can't possibly see a thing in this darkness!"

"I can't stand it Athos… I can't be here…" Aramis started shifting about.

Athos put a hand to his shoulder. "Stay still, you will hurt yourself".

"I need to get out! Let me out!" Aramis tried to get up and yelled as he jarred his leg.

"For God's sake Aramis! Calm yourself!"

Athos leaned his whole weight on the young musketeer, attempting to restrain him. But Aramis was fully in the throes of panic now. He twisted and turned trying to get free, as a bird with a broken wing flies blindly at a window damaging itself further trying to reach the illusory sky.

"I'm sorry for this my friend…" Athos drew back and launched a fist at Aramis. There was a sudden sound of impact and the young musketeer dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Athos settled down next to Aramis, lying in the dirt. There was nothing to be done but rest and wait... He placed a hand along the young musketeer's jaw, resting his palm on Aramis' neck where he could feel a pulse, fast but strong. Silence fell between them... between Aramis, Athos and the dead boy.

The musketeer closed his eyes and tried not to feel an accusing gaze at his back.

...

A sudden blaze of light was the next thing to shock Athos from sleep. He sat up, disorientated, unsure of how much time had passed.

"Athos! Are you alright? How is he?"

After scrubbing an arm across his eyes Athos looked up, squinting away from the light of the torch Porthos bore.

"I'm fine". His head felt like it was splitting open, but there was nothing to be done about that. He cast his eyes to Aramis, who hadn't moved an inch. "He's unconscious. I had to…" Athos licked his dry lips and tried again. "He was distressed and hurting himself. I had to knock him out".

A length of rope suddenly dropped down and moments later Porthos hit the ground. His torch lit up their little prison for the first time. The hollow was filled with debris, rocks, dirt and table remnants… Bits of paper scattered like snow in one corner, and in the other lay the boy, facing the wall, not watching. This place of nightmares seemed to shrink and pale when touched by light, but there was still suffering down here... It was worrying to see Aramis' pale face, his breath came shallow and fast. But at least they could get him out now. Porthos was already busy examining the rock and clearing away what bits of earth and stone he could.

"You're going to have to wake him up". Porthos said grimly. "I need your help to lift this, he'll have to drag himself out… If you let go to get him and I drop it…"

At that Athos went to kneel by Aramis, giving him a gentle shake.

"Aramis? Aramis, can you wake up for me?" The young musketeer stirred with a slight moan. "Porthos is here, he's going to help me get you out. We're going to lift the rock together and we need you to pull yourself free. Do you understand?"

Aramis gave a slight nod.

"Speak to me, tell me you understand". Athos wanted to be sure.

"Yes…" Came the young musketeer's weak voice.

"Right, Porthos, when you're ready". He went to take his place and put his hands where Porthos indicated.

On a count of three they both put all their strength behind the rock. It was ice cold against Athos' skin, his muscles strained and shook, a yell punched out of him with the effort and Porthos growled beside him. A cry from Aramis joined in as the rock began to shift. Inch by inch they raised it until there was enough room for him to pull free.

But Aramis was still and silent.

"ARAMIS! You're free! Get out!" Athos yelled at his unconscious friend.

"Can't… hold… it…" Porthos gritted out beside him, shaking violently.

Athos realised his own arms were shaking, only adrenaline seemed to keep him strong. "We've got you out Aramis! ARAMIS!"

Suddenly the young musketeer came to with a start and he awkwardly pulled himself forwards. Then with a strangled moan Aramis got to his hands and knees and crawled across the hollow, dragging his damaged leg along the ground.

Athos and Porthos let go and stepped back, sweating and shaking with effort. The rock crashed down, and the earth around them gave an ominous shift, scattering loose dirt all about.

"We need to get out of here. Take Aramis up first and throw the rope back down for me".

There was no time to be gentle with the young musketeer. Porthos slung Aramis over his shoulder and tried to ignore the way he cried out. Once the rope was secure around them Porthos called to be pulled up. The shopkeeper and his son from the village had thankfully volunteered their cart and accompanied Porthos, eager to help. Their anxious faces disappeared from above as they went to haul on the rope.

It left Athos alone, staring at the walls as if they conspired against him. The earth continued shifting… another collapse was surely imminent. Perhaps this would be his grave after all. Athos shot a look upwards, it seemed to take an eternity but Porthos and Aramis were almost to the top. They went over the edge and moments later the rope dropped back down. Relief flooded through the musketeer, but just as he was about to grab the rope something caught his eye in the flickering torchlight… The dead boy. He was half covered in fallen earth now.

All around the hollow seemed to give an awful groan… Athos hesitated just a moment, and then he rushed over to the body, heaving him over a shoulder as fast as he could before returning to the rope. The musketeer was determined - this hole would not be a grave, for him or anybody else.

Just as Athos was hauled over the edge and away from the hole everything fell in below them with an almighty crash. He staggered away and dropped down to the grass, lying on his back, staring up at the stars scattered across the firmament. Every breath he heaved in was like heaven, Athos had almost forgotten what fresh air was like. Free… they were free. Athos was seized with the sudden urge to laugh. He only managed a slight huff, and then Porthos was there, a dark figure looming over him in the night.

"You look terrible".

"Being trapped in a collapsed mine does that to a man". Athos didn't smile often, but he smiled now, high on the relief felt when death was narrowly escaped.

His smile fell at Porthos' next question.

"I've got Aramis comfortable in the cart, well, as comfortable as he's likely to get… What of the boy?"

"Don't put him in with Aramis. We'll get another cart from the village and take him back… No doubt his fellow conspirator can tell us who he is. He deserves a name and a proper burial".

Porthos held a hand out pulled Athos to his feet. The large man clapped a hand to his back. "Come on, lets get out of here".


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Deep sleep now under skies of pressing dark upon my dress  
Watch it turn from white to red under the bone clean moon  
I am clinging to this burning, shaking bed._

The journey back to Paris had not been an easy one with the small sounds of suffering near continually coming from Aramis. He would cry out as the cart hit rougher patches of road. Athos was more than glad to get him into a bed at the garrison.

But then a new torture started when the physician arrived. He assured them Aramis would scream but he wouldn't remember it… as if that made it any better. And how he screamed. It had not been an easy job to set the mis-aligned leg. Porthos helped Athos pin the young musketeer to the bed while the physician worked. Aramis screamed, but perhaps it was worse when he found words to beg with… Porthos held his shoulders firmly and looked devastated as Aramis pleaded with him to make it stop. He couldn't. But finally it was over, the splint went on and Aramis fell into a fitful sleep. They all stepped back, relieved and exhausted.

Now Athos sat beside the bed, finding some small enjoyment in the sun's warmth across his knee. He took a sip of wine, not caring what hour of the day it was, he needed it. The physician had checked his head over, put in a few stitches and gave him a draught to dull the pain. Wine simply tasted better.

"We're out…" A rough, tired voice drifted from the bed.

"Indeed we are". Athos allowed himself a small smile at seeing Aramis awake and coherent.

"We're alive…"

"I told you Porthos was coming".

"Where is he?" Aramis turned to look at Athos with a searching gaze.

"Chasing plotters no doubt". Athos took another sip of wine but hurriedly placed the glass down when Aramis started making a move to get up.

"We should… We need to…" The young musketeer winced as he pushed himself up.

Athos pushed him back down. "You're not going anywhere on that leg you fool. You're on leave for now, and I've been granted a week to recover… though no doubt I'm going to spend most of it pinning you to the bed".

Aramis was never one to take inactivity well.

Suddenly his arm flailed out for the wine glass. Athos got to it before Aramis did and placed it out of the way, reaching instead for a glass of water. "Drink some of this, it'll be better for you".

He helped the young musketeer take a sip and sat back in his chair. Aramis glared at him. "You're drinking wine".

"The physician said I should get you to drink some water. He said no such thing about me".

"And since when have you paid attention to the guidance of physicians?"

Athos may have had a reputation for returning to work earlier than recommended too… "Since their advice related to your health, not mine. If you're in pain there's a draught for that, though we gave you enough last night I'm surprised you can feel a thing. It was enough to fell a horse I'm sure".

Aramis' eyes drifted closed for a moment, letting silence fall between them. It wasn't awkward. In a strange way it was comforting… It was reminiscent of the silence in the mine, but shared now without the peril. They took stock of the fact they were alive, that they had survived. The terror had passed. But words were said that could not be unheard. Athos noted his friend did not look peaceful but troubled… Maybe this was the time, maybe in this place of safety he could let a chink of light shine on the darkness of his soul.

"I was married once you know". Athos' throat suddenly felt dry. He took a gulp of wine. "I was… happy. We had a good life together, but she was… She was not what she seemed. It didn't end well".

Aramis cracked open an eye and then turned to Athos, giving him his full attention.

Athos found he couldn't go on. He couldn't tell the truth of the tale and reveal all about the woman who lived in darkness. He couldn't open his soul and let it all out like Pandora's box. He couldn't confess how he had her killed. "I often wonder if things had been different… if the darkness hadn't taken hold… what would my life be? I thought we would have children, I thought we would grow old together".

Aramis seemed to detect how much it cost Athos to bare his soul. His weak, tired voice told it's own story. "I was to be married too, we were only young… I got a girl pregnant, but I loved her, I would have been happy with her. She lost the child and her father took her away to a convent. I never saw her again, though I searched for months… I wonder too what kind of life I might have had. I would be a father and a husband instead of _this_".

"Do not speak of yourself so. You are a good man Aramis. We have both let the darkness in, and it has taken from both of us… but you cannot let it win. It will become easier to reach into that darkness and soon you will find yourself peering from the darkness. Deny it... There is love in everything if you learn to see it. Despite everything we have lost we have found each other, we are brothers in all but blood. I would not trade that for the world. We can keep each other strong".

Aramis lay back on his pillow, a thousand emotions passed by on his face. His mouth opened but nothing came out… It seemed for once he was lost for words. In the end the young musketeer settled for two. "Athos… _thank you_".

There was hope at the bottom of Pandora's box after all. You just had to weather the darkness to reach it.

After a moment of quiet Aramis asked a question that made Athos' heart turn cold. "The boy… did you find out his name?"

"Yes... it was Lucero".

Athos half expected Aramis to say a prayer or ask for forgiveness, he was surprised when the young musketeer gave a bitter laugh. His hands turned to fists in the sheets.

"What is it?" Athos raised an eyebrow.

A sad smile painted Aramis' features. "His name is Spanish... it means 'light'".

The young musketeer's shaking fists relaxed, then in a quieter voice he whispered. "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not..."

**~oOo~**

* * *

**Note**: I've had such a wonderful response to this fic! Thank you to everybody who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed, you all make me smile :)

This was just a final epiloguey chapter, though I was wondering whether to write a follow up story with the plotters. Unfortunately (or fortunately) another idea has taken me. I finally had a couple of free days and clearly went insane - I've written seven chapters and thousands of words and it's still going... (I must continue to apologise to my Supernatural readers, these damned musketeers won't leave me alone XD). So if you like this brand of angst, keep an eye out for "Prince of a Thousand Enemies"... in fact, I'll give you a quick sneak peek now:

_All the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand Enemies. And when they catch you, they will kill you... But first they must catch you._  
~ Richard Adams

"They know".

And with those two words the world came crashing down.

Aramis had been roused from sleep by a frantic knocking at his door. The young musketeer blearily threw it open and Athos pushed his way in, those terrible words on his lips. Everything seemed to slow down while Athos rushed about him. Aramis was at the eye of a storm. All thought, all breath, came slowly. _They knew... they were coming... Anne? What of Anne?_

In contrast Athos rushed about the room, talking without pause, shoving things into bags and throwing clothes at Aramis. Finally he picked up Aramis' weapons and thrust them into the young musketeer's hands. That seemed to snap him back into the world.

"... the Red Guard are coming to arrest you. We have to leave now, I've got your horse ready..." Athos went to the door.

Aramis followed him without thought, and then suddenly he darted back inside.

"Aramis!" Athos hissed. "We have no time!"

But he didn't need time. He dashed to his bedside table and grabbed a small golden cross...


End file.
